“That’s not Jenny Greenteeth, is it?” said Pega.
“Wraiths are quieter,” the Bugaboo explained, “more like heavy breathing in your ear.”
“Bedbugs! Just what I wanted to know,” said Pega, leaning closer to Jack.
As they went on, the howls became louder. It was clearly the voices of many beings. Some cries were high and screechy. Others were deep like the bellow of a bull. “I’ve heard that before,” the Bugaboo remarked. “Was it wyverns? Or manticores? Ah! I have it! Kelpies.”
The Nemesis halted, making everyone bump into one another. “Kelpies! I’m not going a step farther!”
“They’re far out to sea, old friend,” the Bugaboo said.
“You don’t know anything. They could be waiting for us.”
“I’m quite sure they’re not. You see—”
“Look, I’m willing to follow you anywhere. You’re my king. I’m the one our people chose to protect you from your stupidity. Besides, they like you. I like you—oh, St. Columba! I can’t believe I said that. But, please, Your Royal Ignorance, don’t ask me to go near kelpies. They eat hobgoblins. They’ll eat me.” The Nemesis had turned ashen. His ears furled and unfurled, and his eyes blinked so rapidly that Jack was afraid the creature was about to faint.
“I know you like me,” the Bugaboo said, grasping his friend’s hand. “It’s the worst-kept secret in the world. And I absolutely admire and respect you. But I was about to say that the kelpies are howling at the approach of a storm. They can feel the winds building, and it drives them mad. I’ve seen it before. They’re all sitting on islands looking out to sea. More importantly, the wind is blowing from them to us, so they won’t smell a thing.”
The Nemesis blushed orange. “Are you sure?” he said.
“Just as sure as God made little brown yarthkins.”
“Oh my.” The Nemesis shivered. “To think I’d have to admit you knew something that I didn’t.”
“St. Columba would be proud of you,” the king said warmly. “He used to say humility was the greatest of virtues.”
The group walked on again with the hobgoblins in front. Father Severus said quietly, “They may look like demons, but their soundness of heart puts me quite to shame.”
Pega pulled Jack to one side and whispered, “I’ve just remembered. Yffi is a half-kelpie. We should tell the Nemesis.”
“And do what?” Jack said urgently. “Go back? Spend winter on the beach? Father Severus would die.”
“But we can’t lie.”
“Wouldn’t you bend the truth just a little to save someone’s life? There’s Father, too. He needs us.” Jack and Pega had stopped. The others went ahead, with the Nemesis holding up the torch.
“I—I suppose you’re right,” Pega faltered. “Only, we have to find the Bard right away. He’ll take care of Yffi.”
“That was my idea, too,” declared Jack as they hurried to catch up.
They went more slowly now, stopping frequently to listen to the howls. Waves clashed. A cold wind began to whip through the tunnel, blowing the torch flame back. And now a faint light came to them from an opening not far away.
They came out to a rocky shore, wading through a small inlet before climbing up to the trail again. Jack suddenly felt dizzy, like he was about to faint. Then the sensation passed. The sea surged in, sending fountains of spray high into the air. Jack braced himself to get drenched, but the spray never reached him. “How is that possible?” he asked the Bugaboo, pointing at the edge of the water. It stopped abruptly, as though something was forcing it back.
“We’ve passed into the realm of Din Guardi,” the hobgoblin said. “It’s protected.”
“Protected?” echoed Jack, thinking that it made more sense to keep Din Guardi from threatening everything else.
“Long ago, when this place was taken from the Man in the Moon, a barrier was made to keep him from returning. The old gods still claim the fortress. The Sea God tries to storm it with his tides. The Forest Lord waits on the land.”
“Is that the ring of Unlife the yarthkins spoke of?” said Jack.
“The same. They cannot enter either.”
“Nothing keeps kelpies out,” the Nemesis said. “Keep moving unless you want to be dinner.” A line of pillars partly hid them on the left. On the right rose a cliff topped by gray walls so crusted with lichen, they looked as though they’d grown out of the earth.
Jack glimpsed a sunrise between a sky filled with roiling clouds and a lurid sea thronged by dangerous-looking rocks. Tall figures rose and fell as they welcomed the coming of the storm.
“Keep down,” the Nemesis hissed.
Jack obeyed, but he couldn’t resist another look. He’d never seen kelpies, except for King Yffi, who’d been bundled in clothes from head to toe. Anyhow, Yffi was only half kelpie. The creatures on the rocks were much taller. It was difficult to see much with the light behind them, but they appeared to be covered in fur. More than anything, they looked like huge otters. Their feet—Jack only had a glimpse of these—ended in long, hooked claws. The kelpies’ cries were horrible and yet oddly musical. The longer Jack listened to them, the better they sounded. He could use such harmonies in his own music. But first he had to get closer.
The Bugaboo yanked Jack so hard, he fell down and cut his lip. “Do you want to get us all devoured?” screeched the hobgoblin. The others were far ahead, watching anxiously. Jack wiped the blood from his mouth and hurried after the king. When they got to where the trail went underground again, they all sat down to rest. The Nemesis was a pasty yellow, and he kept flinching whenever he heard a howl.
“What was wrong with you?” asked Thorgil. “The Bugaboo had to go back.”
Jack looked at the sea. He couldn’t see the kelpies, but he could hear them. It was a kind of music they made, full of longing and another emotion he couldn’t put his finger on. He wanted to hear more.
“Hello? Anybody home?” Pega waved her hand in front of Jack’s face.
“That’s how kelpies attract their prey,” the Bugaboo said. “They make you want to be eaten. You’d march right down their throats unless someone stopped you. We should go on before the storm hits.” The sun had completely disappeared, and a flash of light, followed immediately by thunder, made the kelpies redouble their howls.
Very little light penetrated the tunnel, and they soon had to halt. “Who’s carrying the torches?” said Thorgil.
“I am,” replied Ethne. “Oh, thistle fuzz! The water drenched my basket. I suppose it happened when I floated it on that stream we passed.”
“Why ever did you do such a thing?” cried Pega.
“I don’t know,” the elf lady said vaguely. “Perhaps the basket reminded me of the toy boats we had in Elfland. We used to sail toddlers in them, you know, to make them scream. Such fun!”
“I can draw fire from the earth,” Jack said before Pega lost her temper. He still had the flint and iron from Elfland, but the torches were so wet, only magic could light them. He made a small heap of kindling from the charred stub of the Nemesis’ torch.
“Is this the wizardry you practiced in the dungeon?” remarked Father Severus.
“Yes, sir,” said Jack, bracing himself for a lecture, but the monk didn’t try to interfere. The boy cast his mind down through the rocks and the water oozing through cracks below. Once, he would have found it impossible to work magic with an audience, but his skill had strengthened with practice.
The rocks were old beyond imagining, although it had never occurred to Jack before that rocks could have an age. They felt used up, all the life gone out of them. Trees and grass would never grow here, no matter how carefully you tended them.
Jack realized that he’d seen no garden in the fortress, not even the herbs cooks and wise women grew. Come to think of it, there’d been no women, either.
He reached deeper. The water had a faint radiance as it fell from the sky, but it lost it in the dark channels of the rock. Was this what happened when yo
u banished the old gods? Dangerous and unfriendly they might be, but they ruled the green world.
Jack reached a barrier. He pushed at it, and the barrier pushed back, making his stomach heave and his heart flutter in his chest. He came awake with his skin drenched with sweat and his hands clenched for battle.
“I can’t do it,” he gasped. The storm was at full strength now. Wind howled in the mouth of the tunnel, and thunder shook the walls.
“Thor’s driving his chariot across the sky,” Thorgil said.
“I wish he’d go somewhere else,” said Pega.
“Nonsense! That’s a glorious noise. It means Thor is hurling his hammer at enemies.”
“As usual, you are steeped in ignorance,” said Father Severus. “God casts down lightning to remind us of the final judgment. It would be best to fall to your knees and implore His mercy.”
“A thrall god’s idea,” sneered Thorgil. “I’d rather shake my fist at Him.”
“Stop wasting time,” cried the Nemesis, who was dancing from one foot to the other in agitation. “If one of those kelpies sticks his snout in here, you can kiss your drumsticks good-bye.”
“He’s right,” the Bugaboo agreed. “I’ve been through these tunnels often enough to feel the way.”
“What do you mean—” began Jack, and stopped. In the dim light he saw the hobgoblin king’s ears unfurl to their fullest. They were as wide as his outstretched arms, and framing the rims were long, white hairs that stuck straight out like a cat’s whiskers.
“I’ll have to ask you all to be quiet,” the Bugaboo said. “My hearing is painfully keen right now. Join hands, please.”
They joined hands, the Bugaboo and the Nemesis in front, followed by Ethne, Father Severus, and Pega. Jack and Thorgil brought up the rear, being the better warriors. Silently, they moved forward, with the hobgoblin king’s whiskers brushing the sides of the tunnel, and soon they were in complete darkness.
They wound around pillars and stumbled over rocks. The Bugaboo whispered instructions: “Left now. Left. Ow. Sorry. Mind the hole.”
The hard floor was unrelieved by sand, and when Jack touched a wall, he was shocked by how cold it was. It was summer outside, but here, it seemed, winter never lifted. An icy chill found its way through his boots. The others must have been affected too, for they began to stumble.
“Almost there,” whispered the Bugaboo. “Courage, dearest Pega.”
The trail began to go up, and the deadly chill lessened. A light came from ahead. Encouraged, they began to walk faster. Now the grim walls were visible, a blue-black stone that swallowed whatever illumination fell on it. Long shafts of what Jack could only call “lesser gloom” fell from openings overhead.
They passed great iron doors. Dungeons, thought Jack. I wonder if anyone’s in there? They must have come close to the sea again, for he heard a distant boom of waves and the kelpies howling.
“Ah, that feels better,” said the Bugaboo, furling up his ears. First the whiskers lay down flat against the skin, then the rims folded over them and rolled up as neat as you please. They looked like fat little sausages when he was finished. “The Nemesis and I will wait here—mud men make such a fuss about hobgoblins. You go up those stairs and come out into the courtyard. Later you can sneak us in through a side door.”
“Don’t take too long about it,” growled the Nemesis, listening to the kelpies out at sea.
“I’ll ask the Bard for help,” Jack promised.
The two hobgoblins found a recess in the wall and fitted themselves inside. In spite of not having motley wool to conceal them, they blended well into the shadows.
Jack led the way up the stairs. He wasn’t quite certain of King Yffi’s welcome, but the king was afraid of the Bard. He wouldn’t harm anyone under the old man’s protection. Once again, Jack felt a twinge of guilt for not telling the Nemesis about Yffi. The Bard will figure something out, Jack thought, willing the uncomfortable feeling away.
He couldn’t help smiling as he approached the iron door at the top of the stairs. He was back! They could all go home. Father Severus could move into St. Filian’s Monastery. Ethne could become a nun. Pega could marry the Bugaboo—here Jack had another twinge of guilt, but honestly, what better opportunity did she have? In the village she’d only be an ex-slave, so ugly that no one would ever ask for her hand. In the Land of the Silver Apples she could be a queen.
And I would have no rival, thought Jack. He was ashamed of himself for thinking it. He’d never been jealous of Thorgil, although she often enraged him. She was a better warrior, but he didn’t want to be a warrior. He was a bard. Pega’s voice outshone his.
Jack’s smile faded. He didn’t like finding this ugly motive hidden in himself. Father Severus would call it sinful, and the Bard, whose opinion mattered more to him, would call it mean and petty. I’ll have to overcome it, Jack vowed.
He was almost at the door. What of Thorgil? He turned back to see her walking behind Father Severus, Pega, and Ethne, guarding them. What was he going to do with her? She wouldn’t be welcome at St. Filian’s. If she was recognized as a Northman, everyone on the coast would be out for her blood. As for her clothes…
For the first time Jack looked at Thorgil the way the villagers would. She was dressed in men’s clothes. Her hair was chopped off. She had a belligerent expression, and her manners were crude at the best of times. How was he ever going to explain her?
Using all his strength, Jack pushed open the heavy iron door. Rain blew into his face. A large arm reached through and yanked him outside.
Chapter Forty-four
ETHNE
King Yffi’s soldiers had been dragging a scullery boy, caught stealing a chicken, to the dungeons. They’d been none too pleased to be ordered out in such weather, and finding an escapee (as they thought) made them no happier. They threw Jack to the ground. The captain tried to put his foot on Jack’s chest, but he twisted out of the way and swung his staff at the man’s leg with a resounding thwack.
Before the others could react, Father Severus stepped through the door. “Hold!” he commanded, his voice rising above the torrent of rain and wind. Everyone froze—Jack on the ground, the captain holding his injured leg, the two guards grasping the scullery boy’s arms, the boy himself, who had been trying to bite. Water splashed all around, pouring off their heads and soaking them to the skin.
Jack recovered first. “King Yffi will be pleased. We have brought back the water,” he said, climbing to his feet and holding his staff out to the side. He hoped he looked properly bardlike.
“You’re the brat we threw down the well,” snarled the captain, rubbing his leg. “Never expected to see you again.”
Probably not, since you sealed the well, thought Jack.
Behind the monk, still sheltered in the doorway, appeared Pega, Thorgil, and Ethne. “Who’s that?” said one of the soldiers.
“We had no women prisoners,” said the captain.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” said the soldier, “but that be no mere woman. That be a lady, sure as I’m standing here.”
“Aye, a right fair one,” marveled the other soldier. “Not a mark of the pox on her or a tooth missing.” The scullery boy tried to squirm free, and the soldier banged him on the top of his head.
Thorgil and Pega might have been invisible for all the attention paid to them. The captain hobbled over to Ethne and bowed deeply. “Welcome to our keep, noble fair one. Please forgive this wretched weather and allow us to conduct you to more suitable quarters.”
The elf lady laughed, a sound like little silver bells. The captain and his men were enchanted.
“Ratface! Off with that shirt!” barked the captain. Lickety-split, the soldiers had the shirt off the poor scullery boy. They held it over Ethne’s head while the captain held her hand to escort her. The only good result was that they forgot about Ratface’s punishment and left him to shiver in the rain.
The shirt didn’t really protect Ethne, but it was a well-m
eant gesture. The soldiers and the captain escorted her tenderly, lifting her over the deeper puddles. Thorgil, Pega, Father Severus, and Jack followed, sloshing up to their knees, but no one cared about their comfort.
On the other side of the courtyard they were conducted up and up through a maze of winding hallways to a chamber Jack recognized as the Bard’s room. His heart lifted at the prospect of seeing the old man through the open door, but the room was deserted. Perhaps he’s visiting King Yffi, Jack thought. Very quickly, the soldiers lit a brazier for warmth. Back and forth they went, hauling rugs, tables, chairs, beds, and mattresses stuffed with goose down into the room. They brought food from the kitchen and clean, dry robes for Ethne.
“I’ll tell the king you’re here,” said the captain, blushing when Ethne impulsively kissed his grizzled cheek. “I forgot to ask. What is your name, fair one?”
“Princess Ethne,” said Father Severus in his sepulchral voice, before Ethne could respond.
“A princess!” said the captain, impressed. “I should have guessed. No mere lady would be so graceful, so—so—”
“Excuse me,” said Jack, before the captain could think up more compliments. “Where’s the Bard? And my father? And Brother Aiden?”
“Giles Crookleg is in the infirmary at St. Filian’s,” said the captain, still staring at Ethne’s dimples. “Brother Aiden was put in charge of the monastery, much good that’ll do him. Those monks will ride over him like a herd of highland cattle. As for Dragon Tongue, I’m happy to say he’s joined them. You could never relax when he was around. Now, don’t you worry about a thing, my Princess.” The captain turned back to Ethne. “I’ll bring you some sweeties, see if I don’t.”
“She needs a good rest,” Father Severus said witheringly. “Not sweeties.”
They were left alone, to feast and dry out. Pega was delighted by the food—pigeon pie, roast pork and oysters, bread hot from the oven with a slab of butter. There was also a bowl of apples. “Poor Bugaboo and Nemesis,” she said. “I wish I could take them something.”
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